Strange Bedfellows
by IlluminatedShadow
Summary: Matthew's new roommate is cheerful and annoying, and tends to enter the bathroom without knocking while Matthew's in the shower. Oh, and he's also a ghost. eventual ghost!Alfred/Matthew
1. Chapter 1

Silly, annoying plot bunnies ripping up my sheets and eating my homework. This one wouldn't leave me alone and since I was rather fond of it, I decided to type this up. It's not that original an idea, but I liked it and wanted to try my hand at it. Sometimes I like to experiment with new ideas to help me improve and save me from writer's block on other stories. -sob- I hate writer's block.

Summary: Matthew's new roommate is cheerful and annoying, and tends to enter the bathroom without knocking while Matthew's in the shower. Oh, and he's also a ghost.

Pairing: eventual Alfred/Matthew

Warnings: AU (...yeah...), language, perving, OOCness, probably other things I'm forgetting

* * *

"Thanks again for helping me move, Gil." Matthew said, violet eyes wide and grateful as he looked over at the platinum blond. Crimson eyes (new colored contacts he gleefully bought weeks ago and decided they were the only color awesome enough for his eyes) flickered away from the road and at the younger man.

"Like I said the first hundred times you thanked me, it's no problem Matt." The older man smirked, reaching over and ruffling wavy blond locks roughly. "'Sides, it would be totally unawesome of me to leave you to carry all those heavy boxes with those noodles you call arms—"

"Hey!"

"—and since you offered to make me pancakes—"

"When did I—"

"—and since you pretty much got on your knees and begged—"

"Gilbert." Matthew growled, eyes darkening. The German (or Prussian as he adamantly argued) laughed and playfully punched the sulking Canadian's shoulder.

"Cheer up, Mattie. You know no one can deny you anything." Gilbert's smile dimmed and he muttered, "Unless its Arthur."

"Gil, don't." Matthew sighed, looking out his window.

"'Don't' what?" Gilbert asked, heat rising in his voice. "Don't say that he's a bad excuse for a brother? Don't say he's a forgetful prick?"

"You're being unfair." Matthew argued, turning away from the window and glaring at the other. Gilbert's mouth was set in a thin line and he was gripping the steering wheel, knuckles whiter than his complexion. "His best friend just died!"

"And you're his brother!" Gilbert argued. "Trust me, Matt. I don't mind helping you move in. I was willing to help whether you wanted me to or not. But I'd expect Arthur to be helpful when his baby brother is moving out into his first apartment!"

"You know he's been absolutely miserable since the funeral!" Matthew snapped, ready to defend his older sibling. "And with the way you and Francis act, one would think he disowned me!"

Gilbert bit the inside of his cheek, resolutely avoiding the smaller blond's sharp gaze. Sure, maybe he was being a little unfair. Arthur wasn't exactly a bad brother. He had been young when his father and Matthew's mother (his step-mother) died and unable to care for the blond toddler. As a result, Matthew's aunt and uncle in France had adopted the boy, raising him alongside their son, Francis. Arthur had written regularly and visited Matthew whenever. When he had finally found a steady job after school and settled down, he had sent for Matthew (much to Francis's annoyance).

He had sent Matthew to school, given him everything and played both the role of father and brother.

But Arthur, who had been so used to being on his own and not being the best with people, was still getting used to having a brother and often even forget he was living with another person.

Matthew often had to go home by himself after school because Arthur had forgotten to pick him up. At times Arthur would even forget Matthew lived with him and often struggled with trying to place a name to match the quiet boy who would be eating cereal in the morning. For the most part, Matthew had to be independent (a strange concept after being coddled and spoiled in France) and learned to be patient with the strange man who oscillated between stern and awkwardly loving and never bothered to tame his prominent eyebrows.

Francis, who moved to be closer to Matthew, had never been fond of Arthur (simply for being British and taking back Matthew and then not continuing to love the boy at the same level Francis did).

Gilbert (who was Francis's childhood friend) tended to be harsh towards the Brit because he had been enamored and fond of Matthew since the little boy moved in with Francis and because he too was an elder brother (overly clingy and adoring, much to Ludwig's annoyance).

But Matthew was rarely bitter and always loyal to the sandy-haired man and vehemently defended him before Gilbert and Francis.

Finally Gilbert spoke, "Look, I know not every guy can be an awesome big brother like me, but I think he's been moping around long enough. The least he could've done was drive you."

Matthew was silent. He knew there was some truth to the older man's words, but he didn't want to dwell on them. His brother had been nearly inconsolable after the funeral, even avoiding Matthew, who didn't want to bother the other. Matthew had telephoned the man, mentioning how he was going to be moving that day. He had half-hoped Arthur would offer to help, thinking it would be good distraction for the green-eyed man. But his only response was a heavy sigh and apology citing that Arthur had to work that day.

Matthew had smiled, swallowing his disappointment and said that he understood. Arthur had weakly offered to drop by after work but Matthew just said, "If you're not too tired, of course."

Sometimes Matthew felt the divide between them was too wide and jagged and impossible to mend. He had no idea why their relationship was so tense and strained. Maybe Arthur was guilty about letting him go in the first place, about not being the ideal brother when Matthew first moved in with him.

Maybe he was to blame?

But, regardless of the reason, Matthew had tried and reached out to his brother, never being overly demanding or complaining. He'd try to stay out of Arthur's way as often as he could, never wanting to unnecessarily burden his brother.

But he missed Francis's free and easy love, though he dared not hint at it.

So wrapped up in his thoughts, he missed a rough hand settling at his arm and rubbing it reassuringly. Looking up, faintly surprised, he stared at Gilbert.

"I'm sorry, kiddo. It was really lame of me to take shots at Arthur." The man said quietly. "This is supposed to be an exciting day for you."

"It's okay." Matthew reassured him, softly.

Exhaling loudly (and extremely uncomfortable by the silent atmosphere), Gilbert said, "Fucking damn, Matt. How far is this place, anyways?"

Rolling his eyes, Matthew replied, "We're almost there. Turn left up there."

"Sir yes sir." Gilbert smirked, rounding the corner sharper and earning a loud curse from his passenger when the violet-eyed teen slammed into the door hard.

* * *

"Geez, being dead is so boring." The man muttered, sprawled out on the carpet flat on his back. "I can't even go outside." He pouted, glaring up at the white ceiling. With a heavy sigh, the spirit rolled over and crossed his arms under his head.

The spirit, or Alfred as he was once called, was tied to the building, his last home when he had been alive. The small, one-bedroom apartment was depressingly empty. Once filled with mismatched furniture and knickknacks, the space had been cleared out by family and cleaned so that another owner could move in. The only thing that remained of the previous owner, was the previous owner himself.

The most he could do was hang around the building, spying on his neighbors and playing harmless pranks on unsuspecting tenants. He was also still getting used to being dead, and floating through walls and ceilings and floors. Of course, he actually needed to be careful. It took a fair amount of effort not to accidently fall through the floor and become stuck in the strange dimension between two floors. Apparently, being a ghost wasn't that easy. He had to worry about getting stuck between floors and ceilings and walls and about dealing with someone new moving into his home.

Of course, he wasn't really upset that someone else would be moving into his home, Alfred was more annoyed by the fact that he couldn't leave. He'd be stuck floating around, being a voyeur to someone else's life.

Maybe a hot girl would move in. A bright and slightly perverted smile spread across the ghost's face. Maybe she'd like to walk around naked and have friends over for slumber parties where they'd dress up in skimpy outfits, more like shreds of lace than actual clothing, and have pillow fights.

That'd be so awesome, Alfred decided. It would totally make up for the whole being dead thing.

The slight creak of the doorknob twisting caught his attention and the ghost perked up, moving to stand. He watched the door excitedly, wondering if the girl's name would be Ashley or Samantha or would she be a brunette or redhead or would—

And then the door swung open.

Alfred felt his hopes burst into flames and boner die when an albino strode in and looked around.

"Not too shabby, Matt!" He called out, twisting slightly to look behind him.

Alfred, who had started sulking again, caught a glimpse of gold from the corner of his eye. A slender blond with slightly wavy hair and violet eyes quietly shut the door behind him.

"Honestly, Gilbert. Try to be a little quieter. I don't want the neighbors to hate me already." 'Matt' scolded, looking around at the apartment. "And it is nice, isn't it?" He said, cheerfully, looking around.

When pretty purple eyes paused on the spot where Alfred was, the ghost felt strangely warm and tingly all over.

And then he slipped through the floor.

* * *

Ahahaha, poor ghost!Alfred. Ahem, I know nothing about ghosts, so please forgive my lack of knowledge. Anyways, how was this? I might continue this but I'm not entirely sure... -wanders away-


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for all the kind reviews! I was incredibly flattered by the interest in this story so I pushed myself to get this chapter through just for you all. *3* -throws love and sparkles and cake at everyone- Some people mentioned this story brought to mind the movie "Ghost" with Reese Witherspoon. To be honest, I had never even heard of the movie before writing this so I wikipedia'd it. This story, however, won't be like the movie. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your perspective. Anyways, happy reading!

Summary: Matthew's new roommate is cheerful and annoying, and tends to enter the bathroom without knocking while Matthew's in the shower. Oh, and he's also a ghost.

Pairing: eventual Alfred/Matthew

Warnings: AU, butchering of supernatural ideas, OOCness, slash, language, other warnings I might be forgetting

Disclaimer: I don't own, trust me that's a good thing.

* * *

Alfred watched with interest as the two men (who he now knew as Gilbert and Matthew) carried in box after box from where he was perched on the kitchen counter. Leaning back on his hands and idly kicking his legs, the ghost watched as the two joked around. Rather wistfully, Alfred was reminded of his own past life, of hanging out with his buddies, of messing around with Arthur.

Arthur.

Alfred smiled sadly, wondering how the sandy-haired man was doing. The Brit had been his friend since they first entered college together and then was his roommate during their final year.

It was an altogether disastrous experience.

After a few months of getting along, Arthur's stringent and, honestly, anal-retentive ways had grated on Alfred, who was far more easy-going and independent. Arthur, who stayed up late working, racked up the energy bill and fully expected Alfred to pay extra. Alfred retaliated by dumping the green-eyed man's favorite tea down the toilet.

Their apartment had shook with screamed arguments and the two had nearly come to blows more than once. Arthur had woken up one day and found that all of Alfred's furniture had been missing. However, the blond had accidently left behind a bottle of shampoo.

Alfred found it later that day, dumped all over his car.

After months of awkward shuffling around each other in class and frigid silences, their relationship began to rekindle. Alfred, who had the tendency of meddling and then pissing people off, got into a fight with an exchange student from Afghanistan.

Arthur had backed him up.

And, in that moment, when the two glanced at each other, all their petty dislikes and squabbles were forgotten.

Then it happened.

A dark frown formed on Alfred's face.

"Geez, Matt. It's freezing in here!" Gilbert muttered, dropping the box and rubbing at his bare arms. "You should talk to the manager or whatever."

"It doesn't feel cold to me." Matthew said, shrugging.

"That's because you lived in Canada."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"It means you ate enough of that weird gravy shit to build up a layer of fat to keep you warm. Just like Eskimos did in the Ice Age."

Matthew stared at the silver-haired man with something akin to horror and disbelief. "…There's just so much wrong with that sentence, Gil…" He shook his head, ashamed of his friend. "I don't…even…" He turned and walked away, leaving behind a vaguely bewildered Gilbert.

Even Alfred looked at the man strangely. "Its because there's nothing but ice in Canada, stupid."

Some people were just dumb.

* * *

"Finally!" Gilbert announced, falling back on the worn couch with a heavy thump. The movers had arrived earlier and brought in the heavier furniture and now all that was left was for Matthew to finish unpacking.

"Hey, come sit down, kid." Gilbert said, patting the spot right next to him with a vaguely seductive smirk and wink.

"Yeah, in a minute." Matthew said absently. The blond was staring at a spot before the window.

"Matt, dude. You've been looking at that spot every few minutes." Gilbert said blandly. "Its just carpet."

Matthew nodded, still unconvinced. "I just…" He turned to look at the pale man sprawled on his couch with sharp eyes. "Don't laugh, but I thought I saw something when I came in right here."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me it was a fairy. I swear, its annoying enough hearing Arthur go on and on about them."

Alfred, who was still sitting on the counter, perked up. An Arthur that claimed to see fairies? Sounded a lot like his Arthur.

Arthur had always claimed that supernatural creatures existed. Alfred, never wanting to believe that the monsters in movies could be real, laughed the claims off. But, now he was a ghost.

Maybe Arthur wasn't that crazy.

But it was interesting that this blond kid saw him right before his disappeared (yes, it was totally on purpose. Seriously.).

Most people couldn't see ghosts and ghosts were usually fine with that. But, sometimes if a ghost really tried, they could be visible to the living. Just like they could control their being enough to keep from slipping through floors, ghosts could solidify enough to be faintly visible to most people.

However, some people could see them without the effort.

But, it seemed now, that Matthew wasn't one of those. Otherwise he would've told him to get off the counter by now.

Or, you know, freak out.

Alfred sighed. It would be nice if Matthew could see him, maybe he'd have someone to talk to who would also let him choose the TV channel.

But there were some benefits to not being seen. Alfred smirked.

"But I swear I saw something." Matthew said firmly. "It was like...the air was distorted or something..."

"Trick of the light?" Matthew frowned and Gilbert sighed knowing full well how stubborn the blond could be. "Okay, then I guess, because I am an awesome friend, I will spend the night with you. But I call bed."

"Oh, no, that's not necessary." Matthew said with a smile, thinking he was just overreacting. "Whatever it was, I'm not scared, Gil."

Gilbert looked almost disappointed. "Fine, fine." He actually really wanted to spend the night…with Matthew…preferably cuddling…

Real men totally cuddle.

"Dude. I think he likes you." Alfred laughed. However, when violet eyes flew over to where he was sitting, Alfred started choking on his laughter.

"Wha—" Matthew started to say, moving forward with wide eyes.

And, Alfred panicked. Feeling himself let go, he let go completely.

"Fuck."

And slipped through the counter.

"Matt. Matt. Matthew!" Gilbert said, moving off the couch and toward the Canadian, now concerned for the slender blond who was staring in surprise at the kitchen. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Suddenly, Matthew began to chuckle nervously.

* * *

"Done." Matthew muttered brushing sweaty bangs out of his face. With a proud smile, the young man looked around his bedroom, having unpacked the last of the boxes.

It was nearing 11 o'clock and he almost unpacked. Though, it wasn't as if Matthew had a lot of stuff to unpack. He regularly went through his clothes, donating and throwing away old shirts. He didn't really keep mementos from the past (aside from a few objects and the stuffed polar bear he had since he was an infant) nor was he a packrat.

No, that was Arthur (the man kept lace doilies and still had the first pair of knitted socks he ever made).

As a result, Matthew's apartment was fairly sparse, devoid of decorations save for a few photos and trophies and some knickknacks.

In fact, if it were up to him he'd be living like any other student, with makeshift furniture and pieces from IKEA. But Francis had insisted (and sometimes it was better to just listen to the older man) and, sneakily, ordered enough furniture to fill Matthew's apartment. He had been about to buy artwork, too, before Matthew wrestled the laptop from him (Francis had all his credit card numbers memorized, so stealing his wallet was useless).

The Frenchman loved extravagance.

He also loved the fact that he did something Arthur wouldn't.

Arthur and Francis didn't really get along.

"Oh well." Matthew sighed, shrugging and glancing over at the worn white bear sitting on his dresser. "But we finally did it, eh Kumakichi? On our own, for the first time."

"Please tell me you don't sleep with that thing." Alfred asked, coming up behind Matthew.

Matthew, though he didn't answer, stiffened, feeling the hairs on the nape of his neck rise. Slowly he looked over his shoulder with curious purple eyes, suddenly feeling like he wasn't by himself.

Maybe whatever he saw earlier wasn't a trick of the light (as Gilbert had tried to reassure him before leaving).

"So you really can't see me like this." Alfred mused, moving around to Matthew's side, studying the human. "I wonder…"

Matthew, feeling slightly unnerved by the idea that he wasn't entirely alone in the room, slowly turned back and glanced around the room, looking for anything else out of the ordinary.

Kumajirou wasn't on the dresser anymore.

Now he was on his bed.

Matthew gasped, eyes wide. "Kumataro!"

"I thought his name was Kumakichi?" Alfred asked. "Whatevs, now he's already on your bed to cuddle with." The ghost said brightly with a wide grin. "You can thank me later."

"What the hell…" Matthew went over and grabbed the bear, clutching it tightly and finding some comfort in its soft fur.

It was kinda cute, Alfred decided. Though, the dregs of terror on the other's face weren't so cute.

"Get a hold of yourself Matt." The Canadian said softly. "You probably moved Kumaroo without realizing it. There is nothing weird going on in your apartment."

"So he's not Kumakichi either?" Alfred asked, scratching his head confusedly. "I'm starting to think you don't really know."

"Its perfectly normal. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Yeah, so I'm going to rummage through your cupboards and, just a warning, I might put salt in the sugar jar so I'd be careful in the morning. There's really not much else I can do and I'm tired of floating through the building." Alfred said, turning around and preparing to phase through the wall. "I kinda like you, dude, so I won't chase you out or anything. But don't make too much noise in the morning because I like pretending to sleep in. Oh and if you ever want to walk around naked, that's totally okay with me." Just before shoving through the wall, Alfred looked over his shoulder and smiled at Matthew. "I think we're gonna get along just fine."

Matthew, on the other hand, just stared at him in horror, the white bear slipping from his slack fingers. "H-how d-did…w-where…w-who are you?" He asked, voice trembling and eyes comically wide.

Alfred looked confused for a moment looking around him and wondering whom the hell Matthew was talking to. Then he looked down and realized. Laughing sheepishly, he said with an embarrassed smile. "Oops, sorry I'm not used to this whole ghost thing yet. Its actually a lot harder than it seems to control your ectoplasm." He moved towards Matthew, hand extended. "I'm Alfred."

Matthew seemed to waver on his feet, before his eyes fluttered shut and he dropped to the ground with a _thud._

Alfred stared at the passed out teenager. "Well, damn."

* * *

I did want Alfred to mess with Matthew more as a ghost but I didn't feel like dragging it out especially when Matthew was already a little suspicious. To those wondering how the pairing will work out, I've already kinda got that figured out. But, warning to all, I try not to google supernatural things because I am a huge scaredy cat (I am Alfred during horror movies except with more tears and screaming and running out of the room thus disrupting the movie because I have to be coaxed out of the bathroom with cookies). But I will do my best! -determined glint- This chapter did take some time because I was kinda iffy about it but I decided to just type it out. I hope it met people's expectations (I was like, WHOA at the responses from the 1st chapter). So let me know what you all think!


	3. Chapter 3

Warnings: Previous warnings apply

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership, though not for lack of trying.

* * *

Matthew groaned, slowly slipping back to consciousness. The back of his head throbbed painfully and he cursed quietly in French as he rolled on his side, cheek rubbing against the carpet. It was then he noticed his old plush polar bear placed in the crook of his arm and the memories of earlier came flooding back.

His apartment was haunted.

The blond shivered, sitting up quickly and looking around, pulling Kuma-somethingsomething closer to him.

Nothing felt out of the ordinary and Matthew didn't feel like he was being watched, but he couldn't quite quell the flicker of fear in his gut. Trying to keep from hyperventilating, Matthew scrambled to his dresser and grabbed his cell phone, punching in the first number that come to mind.

" 'ello?" A sleepy voice answered him after a few rings. The familiar accent soothed Matthew's nerves. "Who's this?"

"Um, its me, Arthur." Matthew whispered, briefly looking over his shoulder.

"…who?" The Englishman asked gruffly, voice thick with sleep.

"Matthew."

"Oh, right." Arthur paused and Matthew could imagine him mentally kicking himself for forgetting again. "Do you realize what time it is? What's the matter, lad?"

Matthew, gaze flickering over to the clock, felt a jolt of guilt go through him. He had woken up Arthur, most likely, and the man had to work tomorrow (unlike Matthew who had no classes for the day).

"Well, it's just…" He trailed off, now suddenly not so sure that it had been the best idea to call his brother. "I'm afraid."

The man was silent for a moment before he exhaled deeply. And when he spoke again, Matthew could hear the irritation in his voice.

"Of what Matthew? You're wearing that talisman I gave you, yes? No harm will come to you."

Matthew's hand immediately went to the metal coin hanging around his neck from a leather cord, a gift that Arthur had given him when he went off to college. Though Matthew had secretly rolled his eyes at the other man's interest in the occult, he had graciously accepted the gift, touched that Arthur did care about his wellbeing.

"I am, but…"

"Spit it out Matthew." Arthur was getting more annoyed and wanted to get back to sleep quickly, thus making him more short-tempered than usual.

Matthew bit his lip knowing that if he told Arthur his apartment was haunted by a ghost, the sandy-haired man would sigh and tell him that it was just a lost soul who wouldn't hurt him and that sometimes it was better to be on good terms with members of the supernatural world and then he would hang up and Matthew would be left with a ghost.

Arthur might be used to extraordinary things, but Matthew much preferred normality, thank you very much.

"I'm just afraid, Arthur." He said quietly, genuine discomfort lacing his words.

"Matthew—" Arthur started, idly pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No, no its okay." Matthew said suddenly, his chest squeezing painfully at Arthur's reaction. "It's just a new apartment and I'm not used to it, I'll be fine."

Arthur's eyes widened at Matthew's words. New apartment?

Quickly he looked over at his wall calendar and, written in Matthew's tidy scrawl, was a note about him moving. Barely holding back a groan, the older man ran his fingers through his short hair and mentally kicked himself.

Bollocks. He was supposed to go visit Matthew today.

Guilt gnawing at his ribs, Arthur tried to speak again but was not heard over Matthew's babbling.

"I'll just call Gilbert or Francis—"

Oh bloody hell no. Green eyes narrowed and Arthur authoritatively cleared his throat. "Nonsense, my boy. I'll come pick you up and you can stay with me and we'll get this mess sorted out."

"I don't want to impose—"

The guilt began to claw with a vengeance. Arthur, ashamed and angry at himself regarding how he treated his younger brother, said in a much softer voice, "You wouldn't be imposing, Matthew. You're my brother and what kind of older brother would I be if I didn't take care of you?"

"Arthur…" Matthew really didn't know what to say. He still wasn't quite sure how to handle his brother's emotional turnarounds.

Arthur, contrary to what Francis believed, truly did not mean to shut Matthew out. And it killed him a little every time Matthew balked in front of him or went to extremes in order to not inconvenience him.

"Just give me the name of your building and I'll be there."

Matthew, a happy grin creeping onto his face, gave Arthur the name before hanging up. Then, with one last look around his room, he grabbed his coat, wallet, cell and Kumajirou before locking his apartment and rushing downstairs to wait for the Englishman.

* * *

Alfred, on the other hand, was sitting on the edge of the roof, idly kicking his legs and sulking.

"Way to go Alfred. Heroes are supposed to catch people who faint, not send them into a terror-induced coma." He pouted.

After Matthew had fainted, Alfred, realizing that he was the cause of the incident, high-tailed it out of the room and sought sanctuary on the roof. And soon Matthew would wake up and then move out and then Alfred would never be able to spy on him in the shower because someone else would move in and that person would be most likely ugly and probably not be able to see him at all and then he'd never be able to catch up on House and his stories.

"And now how will I ever find out who Juanita chooses?" Alfred grumbled. "Miguel the sexy but poor farmer or Alejandro the dashing and wealthy chef?" His pout deepened. "And what about Esmeralda? Will she ever find her real father? Will she?" Alfred cried, shooting to his feet and shaking his fist at the sky. "First you don't let me in and now this?" He glared up at the sky.

The stars twinkled mockingly at him from against the inky night sky.

Alfred stuck his tongue out in response.

* * *

"Here you go, Matthew."

The blond took the offered mug gratefully, hiding a smile behind his curling hair as Arthur bustled about, wrapping a wool throw around the younger man's shoulders before patting him lightly on the head.

"This isn't necessary, Arthur." Matthew objected. "And you have to work tomorrow."

"Pish posh, my lad." Arthur snorted. "You were trembling when I pulled up."

Matthew lowered his eyes and took a sip from his mug. It wasn't like him to get so shaken up, but, then again, he had never met a ghost before.

"Would you like to tell me what had you in such a fright?" When Matthew shook his head, Arthur sighed, sitting back and studying his younger brother.

'When did you get so big?' He thought ruefully, an adorable little boy with wavy hair and adoring violet eyes who clung to his hand bashfully. Now that little boy was a man, independent and on his own.

No thanks to Arthur.

"You know, I am very sorry about today."

"Don't be." Matthew said soothingly, looking up at Arthur with no bitterness. "You were busy, I understand that."

"Its no excuse Matthew." Arthur said firmly. "And, remember, if there is anything at all I can do for you, I want to know."

Matthew withheld a sigh. It seemed Arthur was entering one of his 'In the name of the Queen I will make things right no matter what so shut up you git and take the coddling like a man' modes.

"Um, well there really isn't anything—"

"Unpacking?"

"Done."

"Do you need any furniture?"

"No." At Arthur's questioning look, Matthew reluctantly said, "Francis."

Arthur's face turned an odd shade of reddish purple. It was no secret that Francis tended to spoil Matthew and had the means to do so on a daily basis thanks to his expanding fashion line. Arthur, on the other hand, was a writer and editor and sometimes substitute High School English teacher.

"Oh." His tone was clipped. He quickly searched his mind for other ways to aid the violet-eyed teen. "Then—"

"Really, Arthur." Matthew smiled kindly. "I will let you know. Now, maybe we should both get some rest." Now that the fright from earlier was disappearing, Matthew could feel his eyes getting heavier and the weight of the day was hitting him full on.

Arthur, taking in the other's tired demeanor, nodded and stood up, wincing as his knees creaked ominously. He was really getting old. "Then off to bed it is." Nudging Matthew up and slipping the cup from his lax fingers, Arthur pointed the boy into the right direction of his room and watched, a faint fond smile on his lips as the younger man walked away.

* * *

Alfred frowned, studying the empty apartment wistfully, no sign of the blond anymore.

It seems he had scared away his new roommate.

He exhaled deeply, plopping to the ground and lying flat on his back, staring up at the blank ceiling as silence reigned around him.

He felt bad, really. He didn't mean to scare Matthew. He was just trying to be polite. Seriously, if they were going to be rooming together, then aren't introductions necessary?

Alfred just didn't expect the other boy to outright faint. Its not like he was even going to hurt him.

Just mess with him a little bit. And maybe hog the remote.

And it wasn't even as though he wanted to spend his afterlife chained to his former apartment. In fact, Alfred had been ready to march through the pearly gates and party like an angel (and test out those kickass wings).

Unfortunately, he had been unable to step through the gate. At first he nearly died again because he thought he was going to the other place (and he had no idea why, unless it had something to do with that one incident that one time in that one place, then yes he knew exactly why). But the elderly fellow at the gate had reassured him that: yes, you're in the right place. But you just can't enter yet. Someone is forcing you to stay.

But before Alfred could ask just what exactly the man meant and if he could at least have a pair of those wings because they were straight up bitchin', he had found himself falling backwards and hurtling back to Earth where he landed in his living room.

And here was, again, sprawled on his living room floor. And he'd probably be stuck here forever, alone and bored, forever and ever and ever…

Suddenly he sat up, a bright smile spreading across his face. Maybe he could fix things.

* * *

Arthur quietly peeked into the room, hovering in the doorway for a moment watching as Matthew slept on. The blond-haired boy was dead to the world, chest rising and falling softly. The normally stern man's face softened as he watched the younger man sleep before he exited, shutting the door softly behind him.

Matthew had fallen asleep relatively easily and for that Arthur was grateful. Whatever that frightened the teen had been forgotten for a moment. Matthew, Arthur knew, was a levelheaded lad, not prone to ridiculous fits of terror. It took a lot to scare him but the boy had been spooked and Arthur was worried.

Maybe the talisman's magic was wearing off?

He shook his head, grabbing his briefcase. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a framed photo. The picture was of him and a taller man. Both males looked a few years younger. Arthur was standing, arms crossed, and face fixed in a deep scowl, prominent eyebrows knitting together and looking doubly intimidating. The other male wore an easy smile, hair neatly brushed back save for a stubborn cowlick, his eyes hidden behind a pair of aviators. One arm was slung around Arthur's shoulder, tugging the shorter man close.

It had been over a month since the funeral.

Coughing sharply and trying to ignore the dull throb that rose whenever he thought of the deceased individual. The two of them had a tumultuous relationship, one that, only over the past few years, started to mend its self.

When he first heard of Alfred's accident, he had panicked, already despairing about losing one of his few friends. He didn't want to lose Alfred so soon. He had been impulsive and acted foolishly, not really caring about his actions or their consequences.

Matthew, the poor boy that unfortunately had a face too similar to his former friend, suffered more than usually did thanks to Arthur's shortcomings. Why he still stood with Arthur when Francis was waiting with wide arms was incredibly humbling to the Brit.

Arthur wasn't proud of some of the things he had done, but he truly wanted to repent if at all possible. It just couldn't be too late.

* * *

See Arthur is a big softie. Right so, keeping it short today guys. I decided to update because I've been toying around with ideas so I decided just to get them out and posted. :) I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. I wanna bring in Francis soon, but he needs an entrance as fabulous as he is. So, this chapter kinda takes the story a little bit further-explaining things and stuff, y'know? Thanks to everyone following this story, fav'ing it and me, reviewing. You all rock. *3*

Remember, all comments and criticisms are welcome.

Now I'm gonna go crawl into bed. I'm sleepy.


	4. Chapter 4

Previous warnings apply.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

Matthew hesitated, hand poised to turn the key to his apartment. Maybe it was a little irrational, he allowed, that he wasn't even in his apartment but he was still scared. The ghost—and those words still elicited a shudder—didn't seem to be evil.

Of course, Arthur (and Francis and Gilbert and Willem and even Katyusha and Miguel) always told him he was too trusting so it was still possible that he could wake up one night to find himself at the mercy of an invisible psychotic ghost.

Matthew blanched, withdrawing his hand, goose bumps on his arms.

He had stayed as long as possible at Arthur's, going so far as to clean out the other's fridge and restock it with enough cooked meals (just because Arthur couldn't cook, didn't mean Matthew was the same) for the next few days (each piece of Tupperware was neatly labeled). Then he had vacuumed and dusted before taking a nap.

If he didn't have class the next day, he'd definitely just stay with Arthur again for the night. But his books were in his room.

With the ghost.

He shuddered again, before taking a deep breath and shaking his head roughly. "No, no. Be strong, Matt. You can do this. You're a goalie. You're badass." Clinging tightly to the bravery he dredged up, the young man quickly unlocked his door and burst in with a determined look on his face.

Everything was as he left it.

Deflating somewhat (secretly he expected something a little more supernatural to have happened, but maybe he should be grateful?), Matthew sighed in relief and shut the door, toeing off his sneakers. Placing his things on the table, the blond headed towards the kitchen, intent on checking out the entire room.

Coming into the doorway of the kitchen, Matthew came to a halt, violet eyes wide.

Egg was splattered on the tiled floor and the walls and appliances and counters were covered with flour and milk. A bag of sugar was tipped over, its contents tinkling over the counter and onto the floor.

He definitely did not leave his kitchen like this.

Matthew stepped forward into the mess, face disbelieving, as he maneuvered around the mess on the floor.

Oh hell no. The blond just looked around helplessly, disbelief and shock slowly replaced by rage. Hands clenching into fists and anger coursing through his body, Matthew whirled around and shouted, "Ghost, get your ectoplasmic ass out here now!"

At that moment, it didn't matter that he was summoning a spirit that he barely knew, that could probably hurt him more than he could hurt it. It didn't matter that their last meeting ended with him fainting. It didn't matter that he was still terrified of it.

The ghost had dropped his bottle of maple syrup and now the brown syrup was oozing onto the tile into a sticky, sugary puddle on the floor. Maple syrup on the floor.

Blasphemy.

"I know you're around here somewhere, hoser." Matthew snapped, violet eyes absolutely furious. "And I will exorcise your ass if you don't—"

"Um, hi."

Looking over, Matthew caught sight of a figure, its outline only barely visible, shimmering under the harsh fluorescent lights. Next to him sat a lopsided cake, somewhat flat and burnt.

"I was trying to bake this cake…" The ghost said sheepishly and Matthew could barely make out an apologetic grin. "But I'm not that awesome at controlling my being yet, so I kinda made a mess."

"Kinda?" Matthew repeated, faintly. "Kinda?"

"Okay, I made a huge mess." The ghost muttered. "But at least I didn't burn anything down."

Good point.

"I just wanted to apologize for scaring you yesterday." The ghost continued, shifting slightly.

Matthew, swallowing his nervousness, stepped forward to get a better look at the cake.

Written in syrup, the messy script read "Sorry" and Matthew felt some of his fury disapitate when he felt the earnest gaze of the ghost on him.

Sighing, Matthew just said, "You're going to help me clean up."

Instantly the ghost seemed to brighten and now Matthew could make out a pair of eyes and a wide smile. "Sure thing dude!"

* * *

The cake was only slightly more appetizing than it looked, but Matthew had eaten worse. Much worse.

Picking out some of the more charred pieces, Matthew listened to the ghost babble on about the whole cake-making process.

"And the eggs kept slipping out of my hand but at least I managed to pour the milk before I dropped the carton. And the bag of flour dropped on my head—except, you know, it went through me and exploded—but I did salvage enough."

Matthew paused and put down the piece of cake he was about to eat. "I'm sorry, it went through you?"

"Yeah, so if it tastes weird, it might be because of that. But at least the burnt taste overpowers the taste of me." He laughed. "I forgot about the cake because the neighbors were watching _Die Hard_ and I just love that movie."

The two fell into an easy silence.

But it didn't last long.

"Um, so, dude." The ghost began, leaning forward, a nervous edge to his words. "Please don't move out. It gets kind of lonely and boring and no one else seems to watch soap operas and I'm behind on my stories and you seem pretty chill so I'd like it if you would stay."

Matthew just looked at the ghost. "Um, well—"

"Pretty please with a cherry on top and sprinkles and hot fudge and pineapple and almonds and chocolate chips!" The ghost begged, his form solidifying enough that Matthew could make out his features.

"Look, ghost—"

"Alfred." The ghost interrupted cheerfully. "Remember? I introduced myself but you fainted." Noticing the frown on Matthew's face, he laughed quickly and in defense, said, "Not that I would've reacted differently. Ahahaahahaaha~" He continued to laugh awkwardly until the teen looked away.

"Okay, then. Alfred." Matthew rolled his eyes. "No offense, but I wasn't exactly expecting a roommate."

"Aw, c'mon! I'll be the best roommate ever. I won't wrack up the electricity or water bill. I won't come home drunk or throw loud parties." He paused. "Though if you want to do that, that's cool too."

Matthew bit his lip in thought, studying the vaguely visible phantom before him.

Alfred sighed, somewhat frustrated. "Look, its either we live together or you move out. I can't leave this building and even if I go somewhere else, I always end up back here." He threw his hands out hopelessly. "I'm stuck."

When Matthew gave him a pitying look, Alfred was torn between telling him to knock it off and playing on the other's emotions.

But he did neither.

"It'll be fun. And, worst comes to worst, you can just call the Ghostbusters."

Matthew sighed, blowing away the strands of hair that had fallen in his face. "I suppose I could give it a shot. I've already signed the lease, after all."

"Whoo!" Alfred shouted gleefully, before yelping as he slid through the chair and then floor.

Matthew just stared at the spot where his new roommate once sat, somewhat in shock. "Maple." He groaned. "What have I gotten myself into?"

* * *

"So does that happen often?" Matthew asked casually the next morning, pouring a glass of milk for himself.

"Too often." Alfred muttered. The ghost was sitting on the counter, watching enviously as Matthew polished off the glass of milk and three pieces of toast slathered in jam.

Matthew noticed that the spirit's attention had been diverted to his food and, kicking himself for being rude, he tentatively asked, "You…can't eat, can you?"

"Nope." Alfred replied, a wistful tone to his voice. Seeing the guilt on his new roomie's face, he was quick to reassure the human. "But its cool dude! It's like a diet. I've always needed to go on one of those."

Matthew looked a little unsure, but shrugged. "I'll be back around 4." He said. "You can watch TV if you'd like."

"Could you put it on some soap operas please?"

"Can't you work the remote?" Matthew gave him a weird look. "You baked a cake after all."

Alfred sighed, as though Matthew had just said something incredibly stupid. "I can, but if I do it messes with the reception. I can't really work electronics." He admitted sulkily. "Which really sucks, y'know? I was awesome at that shit."

Matthew just smiled and for the rest of the day, Alfred lounged on the couch, finally catching up on his stories.

Juanita died before she could choose between Miguel and Alejandro. And Esmerelda finally found her father. It turned out to be the man who drunkenly took advantage of her weeks ago.

* * *

When Matthew returned, the apartment was freezing and Alfred was sobbing openly on the couch.

"For the love of Gretzky, Alfred." Matthew swore. "What's wrong?"

"Fernando is a monster." The ghost wailed. "He just walked out on Isabella with some cheap whore. She was carrying his baby."

Matthew stared at the ghost before shaking his head and walking to his room. "Yeah, okay. I'm going to go to some homework."

He wasn't sure if Alfred heard him, since the ghost was too busy screaming calling someone a home wrecker.

* * *

"How're you liking the new apartment, Matt?" The Cuban student asked, taking a drag from his cigar, smoke trickling out of his mouth as he exhaled softly.

"Its pretty nice." The blond said. "A little…different from how I imagined…" He mumbled, thinking of Alfred who was singing Fergie that morning, loudly and off-key.

* * *

"Do you need help unpacking?" Katyusha asked sweetly, taking a seat next to the blond with multiple _boings_.

"That's alright." Matthew said cheerfully, trying very hard not to let his gaze wander below his friend's neck.

He was a little afraid of how Alfred would react if Katyusha came by.

He'd probably make it freezing on purpose.

(Though, let's be honest, Matthew would not be opposed to the end result.)

* * *

"House-warming party?" Gilbert asked without preamble, leaning over Matthew and balancing his elbows on the other's shoulders. "I'll bring the booze if you promise to make beercakes."

"I am not destroying the sanctity of pancakes with cheap beer." Matthew snapped. "Its bad enough that Willem figured out how to make pot pancakes."

"Those were awesome." The silver-haired man argued, sliding his arms around Matthew's neck.

"…Gilbert."

"Too close?"

"Yeah."

* * *

After a week, Matthew and Alfred fell into an easy pattern. Matthew would wake up and leave the television on Alfred's favorite channel before hurrying to class. Alfred would spend a few hours watching soaps before floating around the building, playing small pranks on the other tenants. Then he would come back to his…Matt's…their apartment and tidy up a little bit while looking through Matt's stuff.

When Matthew came home, he'd usually study. Alfred would hover over his shoulder, usually call the Canadian a nerd and try to get him to come watch cartoons. Then he'd somber up and help out Matt with his homework (economics and physics being his best subjects).

Then Matthew would usually have dinner, Alfred floating nearby with a pout. Sometimes the blond would give in and let Alfred have a bite (even though it was kind of weird to see the food travel down the ghost's body before landing on the floor but the spirit always seemed to be happier afterwards, so it was okay). Then the two of them would either watch TV or Matthew would head out to hang with his friends.

* * *

"Can I meet your friends?"

"I don't think that's a good idea." Matthew admitted. "You'll probably scare them."

Alfred just grinned.

"And that's the reason you want to meet them, of course." The human rolled his eyes, half-heartedly swatting at the ghost.

All in all, it wasn't so bad. Matthew didn't ask Alfred why he had yet to move on and Alfred tried not to sneak up on his roommate too often.

Though it was still hilarious to see Matthew seize up and shriek.

* * *

Sorry for the long wait. I've been struggling with writer's block with most of my stories, so thats why its mostly been new things. But I did the poll and it seemed most people who voted wanted this to be updated. Thanks to everyone waiting, I hope this chapter was satisfactory!

Some things to mention, though. Alfred is stuck to the building. He can't leave it. He will always get pulled back to his specific apartment. He can't work electrical things like TVs and radios and computers (the stove was not electric). He also can't move on to the afterlife.

He and Matthew have never met before. Matthew didn't know the name of Arthur's friend. Alfred only vaguely knew Arthur had a brother. Arthur didn't know where Alfred lived because it is still a sore spot that Alfred moved out. Their relationship improved, but they weren't as close (though they were getting better).

If you paid attention to the last chapter, you might be able to pick up a pretty important detail in this story.

I am making things up as I go along because researching failed miserably. Even Wikipedia. I couldn't sleep for a few days. -shudders- I hate ghosts...


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership.

* * *

"Hey Matt! _Dazed and Confused_ is gonna be on in seven minutes." Alfred shouted, floating through the apartment. "Are you hiding from me?" He accused, finding no sign of his human roommate.

The ghost paused briefly, the sounds of running water reaching him. A wicked grin flashed across his face. "Found you." He chortled, abruptly throwing himself towards the bathroom.

Unfortunately, he ended up tumbling through the door with more force than he expected and half of him went through the sink as he fell.

It was then the shower shut off and Matthew pulled back the shower curtain. Alfred remained absolutely still when it became clear that the blond hadn't seen or sensed him (because Matthew would've already shouted). Of course, because Alfred was Alfred, took advantage of the situation and got a good eyeful of the blond who tended to run around in baggy jerseys and hoodies and even socks in the apartment.

_Hot damn._

All pale skin and lean muscle and a fantastic set of gams and damp curls that clung to slightly pink cheeks and Alfred suddenly wondered why he ever wanted a female roommate when he was gifted with this fine specimen of the human race.

Nice dick too.

(Even when he was alive, Alfred was an equal opportunity bachelor.)

Then Matthew turned around to grab his towel and Alfred was graced with, quite possibly, the eighth wonder of the world.

"Wow." He couldn't help but utter, not noticing when the other stiffened, slowly glancing over his shoulder.

* * *

"Next time knock!" Matthew snarled, nearly every inch of skin covered except his face, as he finished his verbal beating of Alfred.

The ghost looked contrite, despite the shuddering sobs that wracked his body that was curled into a defensive little ball.

Matthew huffed, face red with anger as he glared at the ghost. Slowly, he felt his anger melt away and he squatted down, awkwardly trying to pat the ghost on the shoulder. "There there." He murmured, a bit grudgingly. "I'll go rent _Dazed and Confused_ since we missed it."

"O-okay." Alfred sniffled.

"And then we can watch your stories and find out if Bernardo survived that car crash. Sounds nice, eh?"

"Can I have ice cream?"

Matthew grimaced, thinking of how he'd be washing his couches later. But he could see the softest glimmer of something in the ghost's barely visibly eyes and he smiled gently, "Of course."

* * *

"I get older and they stay the same age." Alfred grinned. "Wooderson is my hero."

"He's a creep." Matthew countered.

"But he's a creep who gets laid."

* * *

"I feel like I need to be high."

"No way! Marijuana is a gateway drug! Its how the Devil gets inside your brain!"

"…Didn't you once mention snorting cocaine?"

"Yeah and even I wouldn't touch pot."

* * *

"That bastard!" Matthew shouted, throwing the empty popcorn bowl at the television and just barely missing. "How could he just do that Elisa? You son of a bitch!"

"She loved you!" Alfred screamed at the television. "You cold-hearted beast!"

* * *

Hours later, Alfred turned his head lazily and noticed that Matthew had fallen asleep, his head resting against the back of the sofa and his glasses balanced on the tip of his nose.

Smiling fondly, the ghost leaned over and plucked off the other's glasses and carefully transferred them to the coffee table. Then, equally carefully in an attempt to watch his ectoplasm, tucked the other in using a throw, dancing in victory when he succeeded and Matthew didn't even mumble.

Then, with a quick glance to the digital numbers on the clock and noting that the channel had slipped into Spanish infomercials, the ghost drifted away, already bored.

Deciding to indulge in his newest favorite pastime, Alfred phased through the wall in Matthew's room and moved around the room, entertaining himself by looking at what few pictures the blond had. Again.

There were one of Matthew, barely five years old, standing with a teenage blond, both boys smiling happily at the camera. Another was of Matthew, dressed in a hockey jersey, arms around two other boys as the trio grinned at the camera, their hair sweaty plastered to their foreheads. Another was of blond baby wearing a white nightdress with enormous purple eyes and pale curls (Alfred aww'd at baby Matthew and made a mental note to tease the boy again). Another photo was of Matthew bundled up in snow gear, looking off to the side, most likely speaking to another person.

Finally, there was one of Matthew with that Gilbert guy, holding red cups and leaning against each other.

There weren't any photos of his parents and Alfred, of course, was curious. But he didn't want to pry too much because Matthew hadn't ask him any questions about his death or his past life.

With a bored sigh, the blond started searching through the other's books, picking out an old copy of _Winnie the Pooh_.

"Been a while since I've read this." He opened it up and, interestingly, a Polaroid tumbled out and landed on the carpet. "Hello there." The ghost murmured, kneeling down to try and get the picture. After a few tries, he succeeded and pulled it up to his face.

It was a picture of Matthew standing next to an older looking boy. Matthew looked a little uncomfortable and the other boy….

"Holy shit." Alfred stared at the other kid, taking in the bushy eyebrows and green eyes and the sweater vest. "That's Arthur."

So it was the same Arthur Gilbert mentioned.

And, slowly, a memory came to him, sluggishly.

"_Who was that?" Alfred asked as Arthur hung up the phone._

"_My brother." The Englishman said curtly. _

"_You have a brother? That's awesome. I'm jealous."_

_Arthur's expression dropped for a moment. "I don't think you have any reason to be."_

After some more pressing, Alfred learned that the two brothers were somewhat distant though Arthur remained tight-lipped about why.

Thought, to be honest, he was expecting a miniature version of Arthur, sweater vest and eyebrows and foul disposition to boot. Instead he got the almost exact opposite (acidic tongue, aside).

* * *

By the time Matthew started to awaken, Alfred had already put together a plan. He would ask Matthew about his brother, Arthur, and then somehow convince the blond to call the Brit to come over in hopes that he'd be able to help with Alfred's little problem.

…Okay, big problem but whatever.

"Hey, Mattie." The ghost popped his head into the kitchen where a groggy Matthew was grappling with the coffee maker. "Can I—"

A coffee mug flew through his head and Alfred yelped, the mug shattering behind him.

He forgot Matthew wasn't a morning person.

* * *

By the time Matthew followed him into the living room, Alfred had forgotten all about his plan and photograph (that was now lost in the weird dimension that spare change hides in between couch cushions) and was too busy fascinated in the Spanish-speaking man on the infomercial selling a juicer.

"Sorry for throwing that mug at you." Matthew said shyly, the irritated scowl gone from his face. He sat next to the ghost. "I have to run some errands today. What should I leave the TV on?"

"…Can we get that?" Alfred asked excitedly, pointing to the man who was now juicing the fuck out of a bunch of carrots.

"No." Matthew said sternly, taking the remote and switching to cartoons.

* * *

Matthew rushed back to the apartment, mood foul thanks to the pouring rain that had started, without warning, the moment he stepped out of the grocery store. With a huff, he jogged towards his building, his clothing clinging to him under the barrage of rain and his sneakers squelching with each step.

As he neared his building, he happened to look up, catching sight of his apartment window. In the window, though, was a vaguely familiar face peering out and, when that gaze shifted towards him, Matthew couldn't help but smile when he realized it was Alfred.

Urging himself to run faster, the college student, breathing a little labored, dashed up the sidewalk into the safety of the stairwell and up the stairs. Finally reaching his apartment door, the blond transferred the groceries to one hand and unlocked the door with the other. Stepping into the apartment, he realized something very quickly.

"_Crisse_ Alfred. It's freezing." He sucked in a breath of chilly air through his teeth and shivered. "Alfred." Matthew repeated, his breath frosting in the cold air, when the ghost didn't appear immediately as he tended to.

Fully entering his apartment, the blond shook out his damp blond hair and kicked the door shut behind him and went to the kitchen. "I picked up an issue of Sports Illustrated." He called, pulling out groceries one by one. "Swimsuit edition." He added, receiving no response.

After all the groceries had been put away, Matthew grabbed the magazine and went out to the sitting area, violet eyes searching the room for the barest sign of his roommate. "Alfred." He frowned. "You were right here." He sulked.

With a sigh, the blond dropped the magazine onto the couch and started to search around the apartment for his missing ghost. When it became clear that Alfred had dissipated moments after he saw him in the window, Matthew dropped onto the couch and crossed his arms, trying to figure out where the other could have gone.

It was around this time that Matthew realized he had been living with another person for over a week now and, despite the time they spent together, that he barely knew anything about Alfred.

All he was sure of was that Alfred was tied to the building. And that he couldn't work electronics. And that he had the attention span of a rabbit. And that he was good at science-y things.

But anything more personal, Matthew couldn't say. And, if he was going to be living with the other for a while, then it didn't sit well with the blond that he and his roommate would be relative strangers.

Especially since Alfred had already seen him naked.

* * *

Alfred, once again perched on the edge of the room, stared moodily out into the storm as the raindrops slid through him.

It happened on a day like this.

So engrossed in his thoughts, the ghost didn't notice when an umbrella moved over him, protecting him from the rain.

But he did nearly tumble through the roof when a soft voice interrupted his musing. "So this is where you went."

He turned and saw Matthew, wearing an enormous yellow poncho, his eyes kind behind his glasses.

"How'd you find me?" Alfred inquired, leaning back to better see the blond.

Matthew blushed, pink dashing across the bridge of his nose. "I was…kind of looking for you and thought I'd try the roof." He whispered, fidgeting slightly. "The apartment was too quiet." He added shyly.

Alfred stared at him for a long moment before he laughed lightly. "I like to come here to think."

"About what?" Matthew asked innocently.

Alfred laughed. "Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about." He joked, rising to his feet and trying to ignore his somber thoughts. He reached out, and Matthew noticed that the ghost was biting his lower lip in concentration, and ghosted his hand over the blond's hair in an attempt to tousle it. "Let's get inside, Mattie."

* * *

Happy New Years everyone!


End file.
